Paying the Price

"Well you can forget that last bit for a start, if I'm busy having it off with some handsome stud, I certainly don't want you sitting drooling over it in a corner."

"Does that mean you are considering the rest?" I asked hopefully.

"It most certainly doesn't so don't get your hopes up. It is just that from your description, this seems to be win/win for the wife and that is intriguing enough to merit some further consideration."

I held my breath because her words sounded far more promising than I had expected but that hope was immediately dashed when, speaking fiercely, Fiona went on, "It will never happen because I love you to much, I love you so much that I have no desire to be even let myself be touched by another man, never mind have sex. Our life is just about perfect so why risk it in the hope of something better. I've made mistakes in my life that I bitterly regret and I think this would be a very big mistake.

At that point I refilled the glasses and rather than pursue the subject, switched more into romantic mood. I had made what at one point looked like good progress but I was far from confident. Many on the forums described how it might take years to persuade an initially reluctant wife and I had a deadline of only seven days.

[ More was said that first night but I believe I have captured the salient points of the conversation.]

In bed there was more passion than for a very long time but initially, I was the one not particularly aroused. The impetus came from my wife who seemed to be in an unusually buoyant mood. I went in to work as usual next morning but was immediately sent home again by my boss who coldly explained that for all he knew I might have already given up and intended to spend the week doing what mischief I could.

Back home, without even work to distract me, I sank into depression. The plain fact was that my life might go in either of two directions, and I found them almost equally unpalatable. Throughout the day I vacillated back and forth, between facing ignominy but keeping my marriage untouched or persuading myself that the Russian fucking my wife didn't really matter, if I could even make her agree to it. Later, after Fiona got home, I was still so mixed up inside that I didn't broach the subject that night or the next.

Thursday, I spent the day trolling through the forums and reading how countless husbands thoroughly enjoyed having 'hot wives' and decided that I might be able to handle it if the thing with Grigor actually happened. Again choosing my moment, I casually asked, "Since we've been married, have you ever fancied some guy and thought, 'If I were single I would certainly give him a try?'

Fiona grinned, "Of course I have, I think everybody must do, but most don't admit it. I don't see anything wrong with thinking, it's the doing that's wrong."

"Anybody I know?"

"Jeremy Fotheringham, if you must know, and his pal Graham Baxter. They're two of the guys who spend a lot of time at the gym. Either one or both of them together, if you want to play the whole fantasy. But I warn you, fantasy is as far as this goes."

"And you were never tempted, even a little bit?"

"My marriage is too important but I will admit that, if I were a weaker person, it is tempting to think of doing it with permission."

"Anybody else? What about that Russian, Grigor something or other?" I asked, the catch in my throat causing me to stumble over the last few words.

"No chance," my wife said adamantly, "He's the very last man I would consider. What made you suggest him? Is it the fact that he's got an enormous cock?"

"How would I know he has a large cock," I asked, seriously wondering. "How do you, for that matter?"

"He left me in no doubt about it, that time I danced with him. His penis is either pretty huge or he keeps something rather substantial stuck down his pants. He spent the whole damn dance making me well aware of what he's got. I told you he was a boor, the moment I got back to the table."

"Then why did you dance with him again?"

Fiona turned to look at me in surprise, "How do you know about that? You were stuck at work that night and only arrived in time to pick me up from the party."

Ignoring her counter question since I was clearly unprepared to reveal my source, I persevered, "Why did you dance with him again if you hated it so much the first time?"

My wife had the grace to blush. "If you must know, I had convinced myself that I must have been mistaken that first time about what I felt against my thigh, so I had to check to make sure. I wasn't mistaken; his behaviour was just as crude the second time."

"I've noticed that a lot of quite classy ladies don't seem but off by his ... crudity."

"He may have that sophisticated playboy image but there's an underlying coarseness about him. It may be his nature or it may be built into his Russian character. Some females probably don't mind that but I most certainly do." She gave a small shudder.

Fiona's words made it very unlikely that I would ever persuade her, and part of me was not sorry. I said nothing more on the subject until Saturday. I had been considering my unemployed, impoverished and shamed future until I decided that it was too horrible to contemplate.

I sat down and bluntly told her the whole truth about my situation, making no attempt at breaking the news gently. I was convinced that revealing the truth would mean the end of my marriage, but when I finished, Fiona had an ironic half smile on her face. "At least that solves something that has puzzled me right from the start," she said, "You never seemed as clever to me as everybody else seemed to think you were."

Does that mean you want to leave me?" I asked fearing the worst.

She laughed, "Why should it? I love you. I married you for the man you were, not the physicist you were supposed to be. In fact it is a bit of a relief, because I was always been outfaced by the thought of being married to a genius." She sighed, "I suppose that I will just have to get used to being poor with you because this doesn't change my mind. I think I might have played around a bit if that was what you really wanted but I'm damned if I'm going to open my legs for this Grigor guy, just because some faceless clown in a grey suit tells me I have to."

I felt a flood of relief at her words and we enjoyed a hot and passionate night, but the following day I was tense from dawn to dusk, aware that it was very much the lull before the storm. On the Monday, after an almost sleepless night, I arrived at work and found a box to started clearing my desk. However, I had hardly started when Sir appeared and asked what I was doing. "I haven't been able to persuade my wife and I would rather do this privately now rather than under supervision later," I told him sadly.

"Put it all back. This is a bit premature," my boss stated. "Mr Smith insisted I had given you too little time and has talked me into extending the deadline for another week. For some reason, he is convinced that your wife is still open to persuasion, in fact he seems to think that most women are."

I was glad of the extra week for only one reason. When I finally admitted my situation to Fiona, she stated that she wished she had known the truth about my past sooner. Not knowing how much of our savings might be confiscated or tied up in lawsuits, she suggested it made sense to try and hide as much as we could while we had that chance. The rest of the day and the next, working from home, I started shifting cash about and updated my wife when she got home. It was exciting feeling that we were outwitting the authorities.

However, as soon as I started to talk about my further progress, Fiona said quietly, "You might as well put it all back because I've decided to do it."

For a moment I sat completely stunned but then I was overcome by a desperate need to dissuade her from this new decision. Perhaps my mind had become too fired up with the pleasure of outwitting the authorities but her words had become the last thing I wanted to hear. "Are you sure," I kind of stammered.

"Pretty sure," she confirmed, "I reasoned it out for the first time, and decided that it is only sex after all. Where is the sense in abandoning all that we have over something that really means nothing?"

"But it means having sex with a man you don't like."

"I've done it before, before we were married," Fiona told me. "Outside a nightclub, away from the excitement and atmosphere, I've looked at the guy I was with and wondered why I was going anywhere with such a jerk. I always followed through though, partly through a sense of obligation and partly because I thought he might get nasty if I knocked him back. There was nothing to it really."

"But this will be very different," I argued. "It won't be a one-off because you will have to go with him lots of times and if you need to get close enough to obtain information; that means you have to seem enthusiastic. It means that you will have to fake orgasms realistically; do you think you can do that?

"I should do," Fiona said with a grin, "I've had enough practice."

That was like a slap in the face. "What? With me? Am I really that bad?"

Seeing the effect of her words my wife was quick to reassure me. "It's not true at all, I've always regarded you as quite a talented lover, considerate too and that's important. I only said that to tease you."

"You mean that you've never had to fake it with me?"

There have been a few occasions when I did," my wife told me honestly, "But that was always entirely my fault. It only happened when I wasn't in the mood right from the start and it would probably have been better to claim a headache. But I wanted to make you feel good about yourself, and it was easier to fake it than to give you the impression that it was you."

The next morning I was back at my desk, but I had barely got it sorted out back to the way it had been, when Sir wandered into my office, an uncommon event. I don't know what he had come to say because before he could speak I said, "You can call off the sanctions because my wife has agreed to do what you want."

He seemed to take the news without showing any surprise, and replied, "Then you can expect Mr Smith to visit you this evening to sort out a plan of campaign with both you and your wife." With that, he left immediately.

Upon my return home, I warned my wife of the forthcoming visit. Mr Smith turned up just after eight, and I have to say that it started in a very strained way. When I made the introductions, he seemed to be just going through the motions, and Fiona behaved so coolly toward him that for a while I feared she was in the process of changing her mind again.

When we all seated with a glass in our hands, (basic politeness dictating that we offer him a drink), instead of immediately talking about the 'mission,' he looked around the room and said, "This place is in need of a bit of decoration. How would you like a long weekend break at my department's expense while I get a team in to tart it up a bit? You will of course be given a choice of colours and wall papers beforehand."

"There's no need to bother, we're happy with it as it is," I told him.

"I'm afraid this is non negotiable," he said briskly. "The true purpose is to install undetectable listening devices. Ideally, we are hoping that your wife will be able to bring the target back here as often as possible. Having a recording is better because it makes it less important for her to remember everything that is said. There is also the possibility that we pick up on something that she thinks is too trivial to report."

"I don't like that idea one little bit," I told him with some heat. "I don't like the idea of some faceless goon listening in to our normal life, especially in the bedroom."

Mr Smith was not impressed. "That has all been thought of and taken into consideration. There will of course be a privacy button to stop any recording. You will set it to record when leaving the house and then off when you get home. On those occasions when Fiona returns to the house accompanied by someone other than you, then she will simply omit using the switch."

I nodded, indicating that my objection was withdrawn, and Mr Smith stood as if ready to leave. "Oh by the way, you will find a new shed in your garden when you get back, we need someone close by to monitor whenever we know that activity is likely," he added as he made a move towards the door.

Fiona said nothing the entire time, so it was left up to me to ask what was likely to happen. Mr Smith resumed his seat rather reluctantly and said, "Nothing is likely to happen for a week or so, which is why I didn't think it worth discussing at this stage. Very roughly, in about three weeks time you will both be invited to a party and the target will be seated at an adjacent table. At some point you will be called away for an extended period. About a month after that, Fiona will be dining alone at a restaurant and her table will happen to be close to the one where Grigor usually sits. Further plans will depend very largely on your wife."

Fiona had not spoken a single word during the whole visit. I questioned her about this, but she explained that she resented the fact that he was the 'suit' calling the shots.

The following day, my boss came into my office and dropped a large package on my desk without saying a word. It contained details of our break in Tenerife, to be taken in the middle of the following week, plane tickets and times, together with the required information about our hotel booking. On the flight out I was very aware of the fact that we were effectively celebrating the end of our exclusive sexual relationship, but strangely, once there I was able to put what was going to happen in the future right out of my mind. It was almost a second honeymoon and an idyllic three days.

It was only when we got back that reality surfaced again and I started counting off the days to that first arranged encounter between my wife and Grigor, with increasing apprehension. I tried consoling myself with the fact that I would be at the party too, and no sex was likely on that first encounter. That didn't help much because I realised that was only delaying the inevitable, since the second "chance" meeting was already planned. I think that Fiona was probably engaged in her own mental struggle as neither of us said much about what was to come.

It was when the formal invitations for the party arrived that I really seized up inside. I felt terrible and considered refusing the invites on the ground that I was ill, (I certainly had believable symptoms), but I realised they would simply insist that Fiona attend by herself, and that would be many times worse.

The following day, Mr Smith and a female agent collected my wife from her place of employment and took her to an exclusive dress shop to be kitted out with a gown for the evening. The female agent explained it would reveal more cleavage than Fiona usually did, but only to a subtle degree. She said that they wanted to give the impression that the excess flesh on display was incidental rather than a deliberate intention to seduce. When the final selection was made, the agents declared that it would certainly catch Grigor's eye, and when Fiona wore it at home I had to agree. I don't think I have ever seen her look more stunning.

At the party I was thrilled to see the way that Fiona was attracting far more glances from men than was usual but was disappointed at the seating arrangements. I had been anticipating the opportunity to covertly study Grigor, but that was impossible. Fiona and I were seated at right angles to each other and in such a way that my back was towards the man although he could view her in profile.

My wife danced with me once and with two other 'suitors.' Strangely, I was starting to quite enjoy myself, and seemed to have forgotten the purpose of the party, when my mood was disrupted by a waiter who approached and said rather loudly, "There is a telephone call for you. It's your office, sir."

Jerked back to reality, I stood up saying, "At this time of night?" with the anger in my voice quite genuine. I was taken to an upper room where Mr Smith was waiting. He was dressed as a waiter and his appearance was so altered I almost didn't recognise him. "Grab a drink and make yourself comfortable, you'll be here for an hour," he told me.

I had just sat down clutching my glass and the butterflies already active in my stomach, when Mr Smith stood, saying he was going to inform my wife about the length of my absence. He returned with a broad smile on his face to inform me that the fish was already nibbling at the bait. "It couldn't have worked out better. He was already dancing with your wife so he heard everything I told her. I said you had to drive back home to e-mail some important documents and would be gone for a little over an hour. Knowing that the approach will be unobstructed for so long, our Grigor might even take a second bite of the apple."

The agents eventually allowed me back to the table and soon after Fiona and I left. I seemed to have lost my appetite for the evening and I was desperately eager to discover what transpired in my absence. This was not something we could discuss at the table. Mr Smith's prediction was correct: there was a second dance. "I am beginning to revise my opinion of Grigor slightly," Fiona started by saying when we were back home. "The first dance he behaved much as before, pushing his lower body against me but this time, instead of resisting and pulling away, I moulded my body into him. The second dance a little while later was a lot better, not feeling a need to continually grind into me he turned out to be quite a talented dancer. Also, away from the floor he can be quite charming."

"How do you mean?" I asked rather abruptly, I was not at all happy about the way she seemed to be warming to the man.

"When he brought me back to the table after the second dance, instead of leaving, he bobbed down and sat for a while, perched on the edge of your chair. We must have chatted for about ten minutes," Fiona explained. "His eyes perked up when I said that we didn't have any children and then he asked what you did. I told him that you used to be a scientist but now you worked for a government department. I said it was a very good job except that you had to work long hours and needed to travel abroad a lot. That last bit was part of the script I've been told to say."

The next month passed quickly and surprisingly easily. I think I lulled myself into the belief that I had done what was asked and that it was all over, so it was a shock to the system when one evening Fiona announced quite happily that the following day she would be going for that special solo lunch.

I was very tense all the next day, especially during the afternoon, but when I got home my wife was already there. She greeted me with a big smile, "I think I've got him," she said happily.

"What happened?" I asked, desperate to know, but fearful to hear her answer.

"As everybody hoped, as soon as Grigor spotted me he asked if he could join me and when I agreed he had all his dishes redirected to my table. It was very pleasant, and he was a perfect gentleman. He ordered a bottle of very good wine and when he finished eating, we sat and drank it together. It was rather strong. Then he pointed out that his flat was just round the corner and said he would like me to see it, especially his collection of Russian miniatures."

"That wasn't meant to happen," I objected angrily, "I thought the plan was for you play hard-to-get, at least at first."

Fiona seemed in a very buoyant mood and ignored my display of bad temper. "It didn't do any harm and I believe it was quite a big move forward."